The Sexiest Man in Genovia
by Lucretia Skelington
Summary: Chapter 3 up Complete. The palace staff have been challenged by the Golden Pear Hotel! It's a matter of honor: which group will enter the Sexiest Man? Fluff, to be sure. C&J Teen to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_Princess Diaries belongs to Disney and Meg Cabot, and no infringement of ownership is intended. This is a work of amateur fiction and I get nothing from it…except a few laughs. Hope you do to._

* * *

**The Sexiest Man in Genovia**

**Part 1**

"We have to do something!" Priscilla wailed, helping herself to another scoop of sugar. She stirred her tea furiously. "We can't let the hotel girls win- we'll never hear the end of it, if they do!"

"Priscilla's right, you know." Olivia reached for another biscuit, and then decided to take two. "The Golden Pear Hotel staff are always braggin' about how superior they are- as if working in a hotel could compare to being on the palace staff!"

There was enthusiastic agreement around the table.

"We'll have to enter somebody- that's all there is-"

"Enter _who_ in _what_, may I ask?" the Head of Housekeeping asked dourly, taking her rightful place at the head of the table. The plate of biscuits and pot of tea was quickly shoved in her direction.

The girls exchanged worried glances between them. If Miss Parker struck down the idea, their shame would be double!

Miss Parker took a sip of tea and looked about the table over the rim of her cup. "_Well_?"

"You see, ma'am," Olivia began carefully, "there's a contest we'd like to enter."

"A _contest_? Why would you be _wastin'_ your time on something of _that_ sort?" Miss Parker scoffed. "Don't you young girls have _enough_ to occupy your time, as it is? In _my_ day-"

"Oh, we've been challenged…so it's a matter of honor," Priscilla blurted out, cutting off the older woman. When Miss Parker got going on the old days, hardening of the arteries could set in before a body could escape.

"_Challenged_?" Miss Parker set her cup down and grabbed another handful of biscuits. "_Whatever_ are you girls chattering about?"

Olivia gathered her courage again. "The housekeeping staff over at the Golden Pear Hotel made it clear they are expecting to win. They said-"

"_Tosh_! Silliness due to lack of proper supervision and enough _work_! If Mrs. Horne kept her girls _busy_," Miss Parker declared knowingly, "they would _not_ have time for such _nonsense_!"

There was dejected quiet around the table. They would never live this down. Never, ever.

"What _sort_ of contest is it they're _wasting_ time with?" Miss Parker asked. She stuffed a whole biscuit into her mouth then lifted her cup of tea to wash it down.

There was a pause before a Third Floor Maid answered. _"The Sexiest Man in Genovia."_

After several vigorous whacks on her back by the obliging girls, Miss Parker was able to breathe again.

"_Mercy!_" Gerta Cates said, coming to see who was choking to death in her kitchen. "What's got you all flustered, Miss Parker?"

"…_contest_…" Miss Parker wheezed.

"Oh, you mean the one for the sexiest man?" Gerta's eyes squinted and flashed with fire. "Those cooks at the Golden Pear sent a message by way of the meat delivery man saying _they_ are going to win, so the palace staff might as well not bother."

Gerta stuck her fists onto her hips. "Said the hotel staff is more _so-phisticated_ than the palace staff, seeing as how they cater to an international _cli-en-teel_ and we simply clean and cook!"

Miss Parker, recovered and back to her normal flushed complexion, slapped her hands onto the table, rattling the dishes. "No _common_ work girls at that city _flophouse_ are going to get the _better_ of the _palace_!"

White-capped heads bobbed in relieved agreement around the table.

"What we need is a _ringer_, girls!" Miss Parker settled into her chair, ready to chart a plan of battle. "What are we up against?"

"It's sponsored by the Genovian Times and The Eggs With Elsie Show, and voting will be by mail-in ballots in the Times two weeks from now," Gerta explained. "Haven't heard who's entered, yet."

"Well, the Golden Pear Hotel is sponsoring their tennis pro," the petite scullery maid said with a traitorous blush. "He's pretty!"

Miss Parker humphed in contempt. "_Pretty_ is for _girls_!"

"The Von Troken Finishing School for Exceptional Young Ladies is entering a soccer coach," another kitchen maid offered. "He's all muscley! Arms like streetposts, they are!"

"Too muscle much makes a man look odd," Gerta sniffed. "Like he's bloated."

The girls kept quiet on that one. They didn't mind that effect on a man at all.

"Who else?" Miss Parker demanded.

"City Services has a fireman entered," Priscilla said, with a touch of wistfulness. "They always look good on calendars."

_"They do at that!"_ Miss Parker and Gerta agreed in unison.

"I heard the Hospital has put up an intern," Olivia said. "He must be smart."

Gerta nodded. "More'n likely. Still, that doesn't mean he has anything else going for him."

"And, the Genovian Guard might be sponsoring a helicopter pilot. You know those flight suits can make _any_ man look good!" The table agreed with Olivia. She added, "The University staff entered an Olympic swimmer, too!"

Miss Parker pursed her lips. "Them men swimmers shave _every_ _bit_ of their _hair_ off."

There was a moment of silence as the crowd considered this distasteful piece of information. "Ew!" someone said softly.

"_Indeed_," Miss Parker agreed. "Alright, so there _might_ be a few who'll give us trouble. _Who_ can we put up?"

"Well, there's Anton or Hans," the kitchen maid said, giggling. "They're both big and muscley, too!"

"A man is judged on _several_ things, not _just_ muscles, Lydia!" Miss Parker said impatiently. "We need something _special_."

"The under-gardener sings like a dream," the scullery maid sighed.

"He's so shy he'd turn red as a beet with all the attention," Gerta said, shaking her head. "We need someone who can handle being in the public eye."

"The upstairs footman isn't shy and has a wicked funny sense of humor. He's awfully handsome, too!" Priscilla said, getting incredulous looks from Olivia. "Well, he is!"

"His _long hair_ looks like _Mrs. DeLise's_ over in reception," Miss Parker stated firmly, ignoring Priscilla's pout.

There was quiet for a long moment around the table. "What we need is someone out of the ordinary- a man who'll catch the attention of-"

"Good morning, ladies," a smooth, lightly accentedvoice said from the doorway.

Grins slowly spread across the faces of Miss Parker and Gerta Cates, as well as a blush.

_"Now that's more like it!" _Miss Parker declared softly, a gleam in her eyes. Then louder, "Well, come _in_, Mr. Joseph!"

* * *

_I think the girls just found their man! And what will Queen Clarisse say when she gets wind of the scheme...not to mention Joseph?_

_As if I need another story going- well, this one is just for fun. It'll be short and I'll mess with it when my muse is being stubborn and not wanting to work on Dreams Fulfilled._

_The characters, except for those in Princess Diaries movies/books are my own and are found in my other PD stories._


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I don't own 'em...Disney and Meg Cabot do. I'm just playing and I promise to be careful and put them back._

The Sexiest Man in Genovia

chapter2

"May I interrupt your tea for a moment?" Joseph asked, crossing the room to a cabinet on the far side.

"_Certainly_, you may" Miss Parker answered, her eyes lighting up.

All around the table, tea was getting cold- she wasn't alone in staring at the queen's Head of Security. Joseph Coraza was wearing what he usually wore- snug fitting black work pants, black belt around his trim waist, black shoes, but he'd shed his shirt and tie in favor of a tight black t-shirt that must have shrunk in the wash.

She added hopefully, "Might we be of help, Mr. Joseph?"

"Thank you, but I only need to get a case of water for the cars," he answered, giving the group a smile that brought their collective heart rate up by one hundred and twenty points. The females' blood pressures shot into the red zone when Joseph hauled a heavy case of water from an upper shelf, his abs forming deep ridges in the area above his belt.

Holding the bottles before him, he turned to face the ladies. Two of the younger girls, later swore they heard fabric give way where his pecs and biceps strained at the thin material. A tiny gold earring winked in the fluorescent light.

"I hope you will enjoy your tea," he said, giving them a small bow before making his way back to the door.

The rear view of wide shoulders tapering to a tight, trim butt was just as pleasant as the front, if not more so. Gerta gripped the edge of the table and hung on; Miss Parker fanned herself with her ragged copy of the Genovian Inquirer. The younger girls simply swooned.

"And a pleasant day to you all," he added as he left the room, unaware of the cardiac commotion he was causing.

When everyone's blood pressure had fallen from the stroke zone, Miss Parker turned to Gerta and set her jaw.

"Now that _that's_ settled, we need to make our _plan_!"

* * *

Cates, Head Butler and husband of Gerta, watched as a young maid slipped around the corner, camera in hand in hopes of catching a candid picture of Joseph Coraza, and shook his head. If Joseph ever found out…

He had told his wife there would be hell to pay if the staff were caught sneaking pictures. Furthermore, just how did they intend to keep Joseph- or the queen- from finding out about their entering him in the contest? Genovia was a small country, and Pyrus was an even smaller city, so word traveled far and fast.

She'd only shrugged, saying neither was known for keeping up with such matters, and then lit into a long-winded harangue about Golden Pear Hotel floosies and the meat man. He didn't ask for clarification on either.

He saw Olivia ease open a door to an anteroom, then close it in disappointment.

Apparently, the housekeeping and kitchen staff had been charged by his wife and Miss Parker with gathering shots of Joseph for the contest. At all hours of the day, in every area of the palace, a domestic was at the ready, camera in hand, waiting for the right opportunity.

Down deep in his dignified soul, Cates wished the women every success. Last night, at the Flame and Oak Pub, hadn't Otis O'Dell, the Head Doorman of the Golden Pear Hotel, bragged to him, and everyone within earshot, that the hotel was going to win the contest? Cates sniffed. O'Dell acted _far_ above himself. A Head Doorman was not _nearly_ in the same echelon of importance as Head Butler to a Royal Family. Yet, the man insisted on behaving as if it were. Why, O'Dell had even offered to make a bet on who won!

It was a bet Cates did not intend to lose. His chin came up even further.

His footsteps noiseless on the polished wood floor, Cates unhurriedly walked to the maid's side and jerked his head toward the doors at the end of the hall.

"He's out back, in the rear courtyard exercising with his men- stripped down to his pants and undershirt." Olivia grinned and scurried away, eager to catch the sight for posterity…and the honor of the palace.

* * *

The crowd around the large worktable settled down and Miss Parker and Gerta took their places of honor and opened the Entertainment section of the Genovian Inquirer, spreading it out on the table.

"How does it look for us, girls?" Miss Parker asked, cutting to the chase. Her eyes skimmed over the male contestants' pictures. Each nominee was given half a page with a list of each quality they were to be judged on. Beside each one, there were one or two pictures of the man to best illustrate that quality.

"Our rivals have been doing their homework, it seems," Gerta said, casting a discerning eye over the printed display of manliness. "We'd best take it one by one."

"Right. Let's see…Hobbies."

"Here! What's that doctor holding?" Priscilla asked, leaning over Olivia's shoulder to see better.

"Says…it's his collection of gallstones," Olivia read. One of the younger girls choked on her tea. "Can't say I'd want to take that up- or him!"

"The soccer coach has his collection of trophies," the scullery maid pointed out.

"Showing off- most unbecoming," Gerta declared, her finger moving quickly to Joseph. "That's more like it."

Dressed in black, legs spread and knees bent ever so slightly, Joseph Coraza cradled a pistol in with both hands, the muzzle pointed at a target somewhere out of the picture.

Priscilla blushed. "I had Hans take a picture of him at the Police firing range."

"What about Physical Condition?" the upstairs maid asked, trying to squeeze in between the kitchen assistant and Olivia. "That tennis pro isn't too bad looking."

"He _knows_ it too," Miss Parker stated. "See how he's wearing that _shirt_ that's too _small_ for him and those itty bitty pants? And the soccer coach- getting a _potbelly_ and trying to _cover_ it up with that _ball_. _Humph_." She sniffed in disgust.

"Our Mr. Joseph doesn't have a potbelly," the third floor maid pointed out.

"No, he doesn't," Gerta agreed. "But, that fireman's going to be some _real_ competition!"

Everyone leaned closer to get a look. Muscles bulging, but not grotesquely so, the sandy-haired public servant leaned against a shiny red fire engine, arms crossed, wearing nothing but his fire-proof overalls with one suspender hanging at his side. The group was quiet for a long moment, savoring the image.

"Hope that hook doesn't come undone!" quipped Olivia.

"How about the Olympic swimmer from the University?" Priscilla wanted to know. "My cousin's best friend says he's a real looker.

Clad in a miniscule swimsuit, the Olympian stood at the end of the low dive.

"Ohhh! That's got to be uncomfortable!" the kitchen assistant squealed. "If I wore something like that, I'd be yanking it down over my behind all day. How can he _walk_ in that?"

"More to the point, how can he sit?" Olivia retorted.

Priscilla wrinkled her nose. "A girl likes _some_ things left to the imagination."

"Not much to wonder about there," Olivia agreed.

"Look- he's got no hair!" the kitchen assistant cried.

"Of course, not," the third floor maid said authoritatively. "Shaving off his hair makes him weigh less and so he can go faster."

The kitchen assistant stared at the older girl, not quite believing what she'd heard. Still, there was no denying that the young man was as bald all over like an egg - unless…

"Do you think he shaves down there, too?" she whispered.

"_Ahem!"_ Miss Parker shot the girl a quelling glance, and then offhandedly leaned closer to inspect the picture again. The waistband of the swimmer's Speedo was nowhere near his waist and nary a hair was to be seen. "Appears so," she said matter-of-factly, sitting back up.

"Mr. Joseph still has his goatee- he hasn't shaved _that_," the upstairs maid noted.

"Doesn't show in the picture," Gerta observed dryly, nodding to the tight shot of Her Majesty's Head of Security's butt. The maid dissolved into giggles.

"_Still_," Miss Parker added, cocking her head to the side, "it _does_ show off some nice _assets_."

Everyone looked from one to another then burst out laughing.

"Well, the _other_ picture shows off everything _else_. That's an _excellent_ picture, Olivia," Miss Parker continued, pointing. Joseph, caught after a run with his men, stood with hands on his hips, a sweat-soaked t-shirt clinging like a second skin to the curves and hollows of his arms, chest, and abdomen. Around him, the younger agents were bent double, hands on their knees, or sprawled on the ground.

"Thank you, ma'am," Olivia said, pleased.

"I was a bit worried about the 'charm' category," Gerta said. That's a thing that's hard to put in words or pictures. Why, just look at that tennis pro stretched out on a pile of tennis balls!"

"That's got to be awfully bumpy," Priscilla said.

Miss Parker nodded, agreeing with Gerta. "_True_, but I think _this_ works _very_ well."

As if unaware to the world, Joseph held his queen's hand to his lips.

In unison, the females sighed.

"The _last_ category is 'sense of _humor'_, and can _someone_ tell what _that_ is on the doctor's _head_?" Miss Parker demanded.

"That looks like a glove what's been stretched over his head and nose… and he blew air into it," the kitchen assistant helpfully explained.

"For the love of…" Gerta shook her head. "What sort of doctor is he?"

"_Psy_-chiatrist, it says here," Miss Parker answered. "Figures."

"And Mr. Joseph?"

Miss Parker slid the page over closer for Gerta to get a better look.

Wearing a black turtleneck and very dark glasses, Joseph stood, hands on his hips, black leather jacket open to reveal a gun in a holster at his waist, looking out over a crowd- stern and unsmiling.

"I couldn't get one of him smiling," Lydia, the kitchen maid explained. "I even told Mel I'd go out with him if he could get a picture of Mr. Joseph when he wasn't looking like he was going to shoot someone…but Mel said Mr. Joseph always looked like that- even when he was happy."

There was a general murmur of commiseration around the table.

"Are you going out with Mel even though he didn't get the picture?" the upstairs maid asked, filled with curiosity. Mel was cute.

"Well, I don't see how I can," Lydia answered dejectedly, heaving a sigh. "I was really hoping to, though."

"Why," Gerta suggested patiently, "don't you tell him that since he did his best, you'll go out with him?"

"I could do that, couldn't I?" Lydia said, brightening at the thought.

"_Young girls today!_" Miss Parker rolled her eyes. "Voting starts tomorrow, ladies. Let's get the vote out!"


	3. Chapter 3

Sexiest Man in Genovia

Chapter 3

"_And that's the gossip from Hollywood. Oh, those sexy movie stars!" _Elsie Kentworthy crooned. _"Speaking of sexy…the race is heating up for-"_

Charlotte lunged for the remote and breathed a sigh of relief as the TV flicked off. That had been close! At her desk, the queen laid aside the folder and reached for the diplomatic pouch.

"Charlotte, please turn the television on. After that egg show is the financial report, and I'd like to see where the stock market was when it opened this morning."

"Ah… of course, ma'am." Not knowing what to do, Charlotte stalled for time by fiddling with the remote. If Queen Clarisse found out about the contest…

The queen looked up. "Charlotte?"

With a sigh, Charlotte hit the power button.

"_While the Golden Pear Hotel's tennis pro has heads turning and young Fireman Bruce has set many hearts afire, word in the beauty parlors is that the palace's very own Head of Security, Joseph, will come out on top! Will the palace triumph or be overthrown in this week's voting? Check out the photos online or in today's Genovian Inquirer and make your choice, ladies of Genovia!" _Elsie held up a pan of eggs. _"Hard or soft…they're still tasty!"_

A jaunty tune filled the room as Eggs With Elsie's closing credits rolled by, too fast to be read. Charlotte could not bring herself to look at the queen.

"Oh, my!" the queen said softly, ignoring the treaty she was about to sign.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Charlotte," Clarisse continued, utterly perplexed, "do you have any idea what this is about?"

Charlotte sighed and then took a deep breath. "Yes, Your Majesty. There's a contest…for the Sexiest Man in Genovia. Various institutions, such as the Golden Pear Hotel, the University, and Public Services have nominated men to compete. Proceeds from the contest and calendar go to charity."

"Oh, my!" the queen said again. She cleared her throat. "And our Joseph is…"

"Yes, ma'am. Joseph is the palace entry." Charlotte blushed. "The female staff chose him overwhelmingly."

"I see." Clarisse sat quietly, considering, then continued hopefully, "And there are photographs?"

"Several." She retrieved the Entertainment section from her briefcase and handed it over.

Clarisse studied the pictures with great and intense interest, and then started to fan herself with the forgotten treaty. It wasn't until she'd examined them three times over that she finally looked up at Charlotte and said in her most professional voice, "I'd like to think on this further before I make a decision- on whether to allow this or not, of course."

"Of course," Charlotte replied, hiding a smile. The queen had nearly drooled on the picture of Joseph in the sweaty t-shirt. "Take your time, Your Majesty."

* * *

"You know, of course, Your Majesty," Baroness Von Troken said, picking up the delicate, pear-flower patterned teacup, "that our- that is to say- the hotel's entry into the current contest will be successful, without a doubt."

She smirked over the rim of her cup at Queen Clarisse, and then daintily took a sip. "I must admit I was very surprised to hear that the palace had entered someone into the competition and then, on top of that, for it to be..." The baroness tittered. "Well, to be charitable, perhaps the palace did not understand it was a contest for, shall we say…_younger_ men?"

Before Clarisse could make a retort, the baroness purred, "Oh, Your Majesty! I didn't mean to infer anything about your age. Of course your choice of…_James_, is it?"

"Joseph."

"Ah, yes, _Joseph_. He _is_ closer to your age than the other contestants, so I'm sure everyone will understand." The baroness smiled. "I just hope he isn't too _embarrassed_ when he loses, that's all. Coming in last to all those young, virile men would be a blow to most _elderly_ gentlemen."

"How kind of you to be so concerned," Clarisse murmured, taking a scone from the tray. "However, I recall hearing glowing praise for Joseph this morning on Miss Kentworthy's program. I think he will easily hold his own in the contest…and then some."

The baroness gave a little chuckle. "Oh, come now! Surely you don't think that he, a seventy year-old-"

"_Hardly_ seventy," Clarisse interrupted indignantly.

"-man can ever hope to win against men _half_ his age. Why, that's absurd, my dear!" The peacock feather on her hat flopped about wildly as she laughed.

"Not at all," the Queen of Genovia replied calmly. She blotted her lips. "Furthermore, you will find, Baroness, that your baby-faced pretty boy is going to be trounced in the voting by Joseph and that the women of Genovia, unlike you, know what a _real_ man is."

Clarisse smiled at her luncheon companion, showing ninety percent of her teeth, and stood. "Please relay my suggestions to the Garden Club and Flower Society. Now, I must be off- affairs of state and all that, you know. Oh! I forgot! You _don't_ know, seeing as how the Von Trokens lost the throne and never got it back!"

With a great deal of satisfaction, Clarisse turned on her high heels and left.

* * *

"Joseph," Clarisse began, taking his arm to descend the steps to her limousine that would take her to the formal reception in Pyrus. After seeing the pictures in the paper of him in his t-shirt, she was very conscious of what was hidden beneath the tuxedo jacket. "I am aware of your being entered into the current contest."

Joseph nodded to Shades, and the younger man slid behind the wheel of the limo and cranked the engine. Mel opened the door as they approached. "I'm very sorry, Your Majesty," he answered in a low voice. "This was done without my knowledge and I assure you that tomorrow I will demand my name and those pictures be withdrawn."

Clarisse entered the car. Aware that there were a half-dozen staff within hearing distance, she said, "Please join me, Joseph."

He inclined his head, acknowledging her request, and then rounded the car to get in behind the driver's seat. She ordered the partition raised and once they had privacy, she turned to face him. "Now, about this contest."

"This is all rather embarrassing." He looked away. "I cannot imagine who nominated me…or _why_."

"Well, you are rather nice looking." Clarisse inspected the clasp of her purse, her face reddening as the image of his butt came to mind. "And, you have kept yourself in…shall we say, excellent physical condition."

"You think so?" he replied, his eyebrows rising in surprise. When she did not answer, he leaned back against the seat and stared forward. He was already taking a razzing from him men over the contest. "It's best I rectify this before the palace suffers any disgrace."

"I think not," she said firmly. "The fact is you _are_ in the contest and I think you should stay in it."

"What?" He stared at Clarisse. "You can't mean that-"

"I meant what I said. You should _stay_," she repeated firmly.

Joseph shook his head. "With all respect, Your Majesty, I don't see how this will help the palace's image, particularly if I lose."

"This is a matter of _honor_, Joseph," the queen said vehemently, taking his hand in hers, "and I have every faith in you. You will _not_ lose!"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The matter of the contest aside, Joseph felt as if he had already won the biggest prize.

* * *

"_She wants me to do what?"_ he said, peering at Charlotte in disbelief.

Charlotte cleared her throat. "Well, Her Majesty read that if you put the baby oil on your skin the next time you had your picture taken, it would…." Charlotte took a deep breath- "it would make your muscles more…"

He continued to stare.

"Not that they aren't already…" Charlotte gestured, hunting for the right words, "Well, they _are_, but the queen thought the oil might…" She gave up.

Joseph smiled slightly and headed for the door. Just before he left, he turned and said, "You tell Her Majesty that I will take her suggestion under consideration, and, if that time comes, I want her to apply the oil- to make sure it's done right."

* * *

The week, it seemed to Clarisse crawled by, but now it was Friday and the winner would be announced. Nervously, she paced before the picture window overlooking her garden.

"Your Majesty?" Charlotte said, coming into the queen's private office. Clarisse spun around.

"Yes, Charlotte?" she replied anxiously then caught herself. "How can I help you?"

Her aide smiled. "The contest results were just announced."

Nonchalantly, Clarisse fiddled with some papers on her desk. "Oh, really? I thought perhaps you'd come to tell me if the proposal to redo the park's lampposts in the shape of pears had been passed- it was brought before the mayor last month, you know. Lovely designs."

"Oh! I didn't realize you were waiting for that- I'll go check on it immediately!"

Charlotte was nearly out the door before Clarisse could catch her by the arm and pull her back.

"_It can wait!"_ Gathering her dignity, Clarisse let go and folded her hands calmly in front of her. "Now, you mentioned the Sexiest Man in Genovia contest, I believe?" She gave a little laugh. "I'd nearly forgotten all about it."

To her credit, Charlotte did not laugh. The queen had been on pins and needles all week over the contest. "Your Majesty," she beamed with delight, "Joseph won."

Clarisse put her hand to her throat, took a deep breath, and then relaxed. She nodded. "Well, of course he did- and quite rightly, too."

"Yes, ma'am," Charlotte agreed.

"Well! Now that that's settled…get me Baroness Von Troken on the phone, please!" The Queen of Genovia was not above gloating.

* * *

Behind the desk where she sat reading reports, sunlight streamed in through the French doors and brought with it the crisp smell of chrysanthemums. Suddenly, the scent of coconut teased her nose.

Leaning over her shoulder, Joseph placed the bottle of suntan oil on the pages before her, and then came around to perch on the desk's corner.

"The photographer will be here soon for the calendar shot," said softly. "and, I need Your Majesty's help. I think you had a suggestion…"

Clarisse smiled and picked up the bottle. "_Anything_ for the honor of the palace."

* * *

_AN: This was just silliness- hope you had a laugh from it! (-:_


End file.
